


Ex Malo Bonum

by lady_mab



Category: Johannes Cabal - Jonathan L. Howard, Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Crossover, Gen, ghost hunters turn into vampire hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New department of DEPRAC offers up a job board of the non-Visitor variety. Necromancers and ghost hunters find a way to work together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look children to the eastern sky  
> When you hear the voice say your last goodbyes  
> Look there to the eastern skies  
> When the ghosts take hold of the men who died  
> Look children to the eastern sky  
> When your fathers weep and your mothers cry  
> Look children to the eastern sky

“It’s raining.” Lockwood extended his hand out from under the overhang.

“Yes,” George noted dryly. “How every astute of you to notice.”

“Ah! Irony, right--? No, no wait...”

“Sarcasm.” I crossed my arms over my chest and regretted that the umbrella stand next to our front door, a whole twenty-minute walking from here, actually held no umbrellas. That was irony. “You’re thinking of sarcasm.”

Lockwood swore under his breath and snapped his fingers. “I’ll get it right one day.”

“Try predicting the evening weather for a start.” George mimicked my pose, but hugged his arms close to his chest. “It’s raining and it is _cold_.” He looked over at our leader -- who, despite his willowy frame and fashionable jacket, didn’t seem too bothered by our current predicament. “That’s ‘cruel twist of fate’, if you were wondering.”

A part of me wanted to stick up for Lockwood. He was, after all, our fearless leader. But at the same time, he was the one that dragged us out here past curfew to take a look at the new Agency Board that DEPRAC set up.. I settled for a safe middle ground. “Hey, at least it isn’t--”

“No,” George cut in sharply. “Don’t say it because then it will happen.”

Startled, I snap my mouth shut and don’t offer up the _at least it’s not snowing_. “So, why couldn’t we just come in the morning to see this new board? We could have prepared ourselves better for the weather, and we wouldn’t have to be carrying around our rapiers.” Grabbed the ever-present weapons instead of the non-existent umbrellas. ‘Cruel twist of fate’ indeed.

“Had to snatch any jobs before someone else did!” He waved the form triumphantly in our faces. “Hot off the press!”

George and I exchanged glances. We were only  one of the first teams there because we had no jobs for the evening. Catch-22. “Can’t say I’m too fond of this new job board idea,” George added with a heavy sigh. “It’s enough that we kids have to deal with Visitors. How are we supposed to handle the additional caseload if werewolves and banshees are suddenly on the table?”

“It’s a chance to grow.” Lockwood shook the paper-- our first non-Visitor job -- under George’s nose. He snatched it away before the frozen, chubby fingers could rip it to shreds. “We get more money, we hire more agents, we--”

“Get an actual office?”

“Well--”

“Oh, I know! We get paid?”

George pointed at me. “Yes. Yes, I would like that idea.”

This seemed to deflate Lockwood a tad, though I’d since decided to stop feeling guilty over it.

“Are you sure this isn’t going to be too hard for us?” I reached for the paper, and he surrendered it to me. He could trust me to hold on to it. “I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to take on werewolf cubs.”

“Ah, that’s where we come in, actually.” We had been so busy talking that we hadn’t noticed the young woman joining us under the Yard’s overhang. She smiled prettily when we twisted around to look at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Detective Leonie Barrow. I’m the founder of DEPRAC’s new paranormal department. Ah, the non-Visitor paranormal.”

Lockwood turned on his hundred-watt smile and took the hand she offered in greeting. “Well met, Detective Barrow! I am Anthony Lockwood, and these are my associates, Lucy Carlyle and George Cubbins.”

She shook each of our hands in turn, and I was surprised by how firm and confident her grip was. “I’ve read about your success in the papers. It is rare to see such self-motivated youths these days. Your dedication to the new department is testament to that as well, and I thank you.”

As she spoke, I studied the newcomer. Her skin, smooth and tanned was dappled with freckles. Her wild mane of russet hair was pulled out of her face with a simple band. She was barely older than Lockwood -- enough that any Talents would have run out a year or two ago. Overall, very pretty with an air about her that spoke of her wisdom. I liked her immediately.

“What do you mean by ‘that’s where we come in’ in regards to the wolf cubs?” George pushed his glasses up his nose, and frowned as a stray drop of rain landed on his head.

“We don’t expect children to undertake tasks more dangerous than they already have with this Problem. Neutralizing a ghost is one thing. Asking you to make the choice between life and death for another living creature is a completely different matter.” Her smile was simple, stunning, but her eyes were hard. There were things she has experienced that have made her passionate about this.

“Did you have any Talents when you were younger?” I did my best to phrase this as delicately as possible. I don’t want to insult someone I’d just met.

The corners of her lips curl into a smirk. “No, Miss Carlyle. I was not among the Talented. I simply have a passion for protecting the innocent. And sometimes that might involve relocating a litter of werewolf cubs.”

George snorted, and I already knew I wouldn’t like the next words out of his mouth. “A hippie para-environmentalist? I don’t know if a political hub like DEPRAC is up your alley.”

Her smile returned to the sharp angle it had before. “I am well aware of the difference a choice between life and death can make. For humans and those decidedly _not_. And you, Mister Cubbins? Can you confidently say that you would be able to kill someone if it came down to it? In a manner that you had no other option, and knew full well that sacrificing one life would mean saving hundreds more?”

I looked at George, but he stared off to the side. His mouth twisted in a displeased frown.

Lockwood cleared his throat and moved to cut off any potential answer. “I am curious, Detective Barrow -- how are we going to help?”

My gaze jumps to the paper in my hand, the details of the new case fresh on the thin paper, complete with a decorative letterhead for the new department. “Wait, you took this without even knowing how we were going to solve it?”

“I would have figured it out eventually, Luce! Or George would have. It’s why we keep him around anyway.”

A dry, “Oh, _har har_ ,” echoed from over his shoulder, and I could see George’s girth huffing from behind Lockwood’s stick frame.

The edge was gone from her words and her expression as she laughed. “Your Talent will be useful, Mister Lockwood. Isn’t that how you helped the Yard catch Harry Crisp? Seeing the Death Glows in his yard?”

He visibly brightened at this. “Oh yes. You know the case?”

“It made headlines all the way up in Penlow. That was the first time I heard about you, Mister Lockwood. Fascinating from the beginning, eh?”

Modesty didn’t become Lockwood -- not in the slightest. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud as he attempted. “And this is only the beginning, Detective.”

Her laughter was accompanied by the door of the Yard sliding open and stylish shoes clacked over the iron grilles. Detective Barrow’s expression shifted -- less like the cryptic young woman and more into a true professional -- as she noticed the man walking toward us. “Ah, agents. I would like you to meet my co-founder and business partner, Herr Johannes Cabal.”

The man in question grunted in response. “Pleasure,” he said, in a way that meant it really wasn’t. His high cheekbones and strong, sloping nose gave him an overall handsome appearance, but his eyes were as hard as the blue glass used for his spectacles, and his mouth appeared to be creased in a permanent frown. “Are you coming, Miss Barrow, or shall I see you back at the flat?”

She rolled her eyes and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I’m coming, Cabal. I’m coming.” Detective Barrow took several steps out from beneath the overhang, one hand held fruitlessly over her head. Her partner did not even seemed phased by the rain. “I expect we’ll run into each other again.”

“Lockwood and Co. Ring us up if you need any assistance!” Lockwood called, his brilliant smile in place and a cheerful wave thrown in parting as the two were swallowed by the darkness. “Odd that neither of them seem wholly protected, hm?”

It was true, though I hadn’t noticed it when we were talking. Detective Barrow, freely admitting to having no sort of psychic sensitivity, walked completely unarmed. Not even a sprig of lavender to act as protection. Herr Cabal had a walking stick, likely topped with iron and even more likely encasing a rapier, but he was at least in his early thirties and would only have a slight hunch if anything were to attack them.

“Do you think we should have offered to escort them...” My hand moved to the hilt of my rapier on instinct.

Lockwood was lost in thoughtful silence, so George took it upon himself to answer. “No.”

“Short and to the point. Typical.”

“No use thinking about it now!” Lockwood sprang back to life and struck out into the rain with confidence. “Come along now. Sooner we are back at the house, the sooner we can ensure these blades of ours are cleaned of this damned drizzle.”

George and I lingered behind for several seconds. He heaved a heavy breath, and the air turned into a white cloud. “He’s odd...”

“He’s our boss.”

He pinned me with his glaring side-eye. “I meant the man Cabal.”

“Ah.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and followed after Lockwood. “A bit.” It was hard to identify what it was that was off about him, but I felt uneasy in his presence. Detective Barrow was pleasant enough, but her partner left a bad taste and something to be desired. 


	2. Chapter 2

We found the werewolf pups with considerably less effort than we originally thought. Admittedly, there is far less work that has to go in to research for a job like that one. We put a feeder out for potential disturbances in the neighborhood -- food going missing, an increase in “wild dog attacks”, and two and two makes four. Tadaa.

We didn’t have to consider things like “just how many bodies are burried in this grave and which one of them poses the most threat and thus should be neutralized first”. We just had to make care not to get bit, and with the proper clothing, that was more than easily done (though that didn’t stop George from having a pup hanging onto the back of his baggy trousers for a good five minutes, frantically chewing at the padding he had strapped on).

It wasn’t Detective Barrow who came down once we put in the call. It was a trio of men nearing their late thirties. They came with silver cages and nets that the common animal control agent carried. They chatted with us about the weather, spent some time investigating the bite marks on George’s backside with Lockwood and I doing our best to contain our laughter, and then drove off in a converted police wagon with the DEPRAC logo and their division painted on the sides. A sheaf of paperwork arrived that afternoon, and after that was turned in, a paycheck with a tidy sum.

“This isn’t nearly as satisfying as ghost hunting,” I finally admitted, staring at the third job offer Lockwood had selected since the new listing board opened. “There is no mystery.”

“As loathe as I am to admit it, the story really was half the fun of going after a ghost...” Lockwood sighed and tapped his pen on his desk.

George looked up from our casebook, where he was pasting Job Listing Number Two and the related research. “It makes my job easier, but now I have too much free time, and I’ve resorted to working on sudokus.”

“Ah, _quelle horreur_ ,” Lockwood said with a smirk and an airy wave of his hand.  “Money is money, is it not?”

This was, of course, not a new argument. It was one that has popped up on multiple occasions in this house. Lockwood & Co. was very divided on the subject. On one hand, yes: Money was money and it was how we kept ourselves fed and our business running. On the other, George’s frantic studies of the Idea of Beyond kept him motivated, and even my Touch ability linked me far closer to the Visitors than I would have honestly appreciated. It kept me wondering, and kept me digging until I found out the answer.

And after the event with the locket, I was more aware of how sensitive I could be. Finding out the story behind a Visitor that we dealt with, no matter how insignificant, brought satisfaction to a job well done.

Finding a litter of slightly more dangerous than usual pups was not exactly my idea of ‘satisfying’.

It was nearing four in the afternoon, what remained of the late autumn sun well on its way down to the horizon, when the doorbell sounded through the comfortable silence of the house

Lockwood, having gone back to filling out paperwork on a case, couldn’t even be bothered to shift his head from where it rested in the palm of his hand. “George, answer it.”

“My hands are covered in glue. The last time I answered the door while in archival mode, I got stuck to it for three hours.”

“Lucy--”

I sighed and pushed myself to my feet. “Got it, got it.”

The doorbell rang again as I sloughed up the flight of stairs and down the halls.

“Coming!” I called over the third bell, and pulled it open to find a rather unexpected guest.

Detective Leonie Barrow stood on our doormat, a polite but shaky smile in place over her painted lips.  “Miss Carlyle! I am glad that you are home.”

I stepped aside to let her in without another hesitation. “Are you here on business?” I reached to take her coat, ready to drape it over the crystal skull lantern for lack of anything else to cover the hideous decor with, when another thought struck me. “You’re not here to scold us for how badly we handled that vampire case, are you? Because how were we supposed to know they weren’t going to respond to garlic despite the fact that we should have known because they were running their money laundering business through an Italian restaurant--”

She laughed, that warm and comforting sound that I had only heard briefly the first time we met. “Far from it, Miss Carlyle. I’m actually here on a... a more _personal_ request.”

My mouth dropped open and brow furrowed in confusion. “A request? For us?” She barely knew us, and only could vouch for our abilities through whatever barely-positive light Inspector Barnes and the rest of DEPRAC would cast us in.

Still, I snapped my jaw shut and ushered her into the room. “Just a moment. Let me fetch Lockwood. Would you like some tea?”

“Please,” Inspector Barrow said, unwinding her scarf and draping it over her arm. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“You come to us with a job offer, and nothing is too much trouble.”

She took a seat I showed her to with a smile.

It took every ounce of control I could muster not to start yelling for the other two. I couldn’t imagine what she would ask from us, especially with our less than stellar reputation. Sure, we had been growing in popularity over the last few months -- large cases under our belts helping -- but we are a small, not-by-every-book type of team. A DEPRAC official, even from a new, offshoot branch, would generally turn to a team like Fittes or Rotwell.

George and Lockwood were standing in the door to the basement, waiting for me to return. “Who is it? I heard a woman’s voice.”

“It’s Detective Barrow from the other night,” I said, putting the kettle on to boil and pulling down a tray before digging through the array of cups.

George automatically turned to Lockwood with an accusatory glare. “I _told_ you that the vampires were going to--”

“It’s not about the vampires.”

They stopped, looked at me, then back at each other. “It’s not?”

I arranged the cups on the tray and measured out the tea leaves into the pot. “Put on your charming smile, Lockwood, she’s here with a job offer.”

He stepped fully into the kitchen and straightened his shirt sleeves with a sharp tug. “George, get some of the cakes from the pantry. Luce, bring the tea when it is ready.” Without saying anything else, and without waiting for us to jump to our tasks, he pushed aside the door to the sitting room and disappeared behind it.

I watched it swing shut, the gentle hum of conversation and the slow rumble of the water starting to respond to the fire. Behind me, my third teammate grumbled and his heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs. I strained my ears, desperate for some auditory glimpse of the conversation between Lockwood and Detective Barrow, but I couldn’t hear anything.  

The water was rising to a gentle boil when George returned, tossing the cakes in the direction of the counter. “I’ll finish up here. We both know how hopeless you are when it comes to making a nice arrangement for a client.”

While it was true, and the few times I was trusted to bring out the tea, it was less than appealing, I didn’t like be reminded of that fact -- least of all by George. “Try not to eat all the cakes before you get out there.”

He ate one to spite me, but I didn’t have a witty comeback ready by the time I reach the door into the sitting room. There was a tense atmosphere that I was tempted to cut with one of the ornamental daggers lying on a bookshelf next to me. Instead, I let the door close with a resounding thud to announce my presence.

Lockwood and Detective Barrow are locked in an awkward sort of stare-down: her with her pretty yet professional smile, him with his lips creased into the ever so slight hint of a frown. Whatever she said, he was not immediately fond of the plan.

“Have a seat, Luce,” he said, being the first one to shift as he glanced back at me. “Detective Barrow has an interesting proposition.”

I dropped into my customary spot on the couch, sitting forward with my hands on my knees. “What sort of job is it, Detective?”

“Please, call me Leonie. Do you mind if I call you Lucy?” Her smile could rival Lockwood’s with the ability to convince people to do what she wanted. Her hair was down today, curling about her shoulders in a mane. She kept her hands resting over her neatly folded scarf, draped across her knees. “Professionalism is all well and good, but that can be kept when we’re in the office. I already told you this is a personal request.”

“Alright.” I could feel the edges of tension creeping into my bones, infecting me just as it had the rest of the room. I practically jumped when the door banged open and George bustled in with the tray of tea.

“Didn’t know someone died and this suddenly turned into a funeral parlor,” he grumped, setting down the tray and passing out the first cup to Detective Barrow. “Cream? Sugar?”

She held up a hand to decline the offer, and took the cup so that he could sit down. “What I am going to ask of you is a very personal request, and it’s not exactly mine -- though it was my idea.” Her eyelashes brushed over the ridges of her cheeks as she looked down and studied her reflection in the amber tea.

Lockwood graciously handed a cup to me before taking one for himself. “And you’re telling me that, no offense, your sour-faced companion agreed to it?”

Whatever the request was about, it had to deal with the German man we met the other evening. _Herr Johannes Cabal,_ who looked down his nose at us with a level of disgust I had learned to equate to _cocky brats who think they can get away with anything_. A lot of older people -- especially those who had never possessed any Talents in their younger years -- gave us looks like that when we swanned around with our Rapiers at our hips and a belt filled with magnesium flares and salt bombs. Sometimes it was born of jealousy, other times it was just that they didn’t quite understand.

They didn’t understand how difficult our lives were, our jobs were. They didn’t understand how dangerous a life we led.

Maybe that is why I didn’t like the man Cabal when we first met him. I hadn’t been able to pinpoint it that evening, but thinking back, I’m quite certain it was that look that he gave us.

Unease replaced the tension at the idea that we might be working on request of that man.

Detective Barrow squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up just a degree. “He’s not as difficult as he first seems. He’s a man of strange habits, of many secrets, and of a rotten personality, but he is logical and honest and once you understand that, you will be able to see that he’s quite simple. But I’m not here to defend Cabal. I am here to hire you on behalf of him.”

George and I exchanged confused glances, though the seriousness was effectively cut in half as he smeared the trace of cream from the corner of his mouth and onto his shirt.

“More exactly, I would like to hire you, Lucy.”

“Wait, what?” My head whipped back to her so quickly I almost dropped my tea and saucer. “Me?”

“Your ability to connect with the objects of those gone and lost are of particular interest to Cabal. That’s not to say that Cubbin’s research abilities and Lockwood’s general skills in the field and spotting Visitors, should there be any, will be most useful as well.” She took a sip from her tea, and hummed in response to the taste. “What a nice brew.”

George tapped his fat fingers on his thighs and pursed his lips. “What if we say no?”

Detective Barrow busied herself with her cup for a moment, and I felt George’s irritation rise as she refrained from immediately answering his question. “Think of it as a flexible contract hire. I only require Lucy to say yes. Cubbins, you may accept the request if you would like, or Lockwood may, but you are not explicitly vital.”

I attempt to disguise my embarrassment by shoving one of the cakes into my mouth, and only result in nearly choking myself. My inability to accept praise in any form was painfully apparent. After taking a moment to clear my throat and gulp a fortifying mouthful of tea, I lick my lips and run the idea over in my head. “What sort of job is it?”

This seemed to please her a bit. “Two objects. He would like to know if you can locate the owners of them.”

My stomach performed an uneasy somersault and my voice squeaked out when I replied, “I can’t exactly locate people through their echoes.”

She rolled her lips together and smoothed the pad of her thumb over the edge of her cup. “I don’t want to say too much and betray Cabal’s trust in telling you secrets that aren’t my own, but the objects in question, he assures me, will be very helpful in helping you answer any questions he might have. Anything you might be able to tell him from the echoes that you see will be of great help, and he will reward you handsomely.”

“And say we wanted in on the gig as well,” George cut in, though Lockwood remained stone-faced and silent in his chair. “How are we supposed to help?”

“In locating the remains. You would assist him in the research and any possible legwork. Should you decline, regardless of Lucy’s choice, he would simply undertake a large part of the work himself and hire out only as necessary.” She set her cup down on the table and rose to her feet. “Think about it. You can always find me in my office at DEPRAC, or leave a memo for me if I’m not there.”

I stared at the tea set on the table across from me, marginally aware of Detective Barrow wrapping her scarf back around her neck. She was saying something, though I couldn’t tell if the voice replying was George or Lockwood.

“I’ll do it!”

Three pairs of eyes, all round with surprise, turned in my direction.

I hadn’t even realized that the words leapt from my mouth before I could fully comprehend them. And, it appeared, I had also jumped to my feet before she could reach the hall. “I’ll take the job, Detective Barrow.”

Her surprise wore off first, and it melted into a delighted smile. “Leonie, please. And thank you. Cabal and I will get in contact with you with further details later in the week.” Her eyes jumped to my two male companions. “You are free to tag along with Lucy when she comes on the job, and decide then.”

I’m mildly surprised that neither of them don’t offer up an immediate reply or a snide remark. They let Detective Barrow -- they let Leonie -- leave without any further comment.

Lockwood didn’t stir until the sound of the front door clicking shut reached out ears. He lifted his tea to his lips with a robotic jerk of his arm, then frowned as he realized it was cold. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Lucy?”

I shot him a glare and snatched up a cake from the tray -- much to George’s scandalized gasp. “There have been plenty of jobs that you have taken that we haven’t thought were good ideas. Besides, I would have thought that accepting the new Detective’s personal request would play in our favor for any future jobs.”

“Yeah, but Barrow is a nice enough woman. It’s the man Cabal that concerns us.” George set his own tea down on the table and resumed drumming at his thigh.

The fact that he said ‘us’, coupled with Lockwood’s displeased expression, meant that they have discussed the situation without me. Inexplicably, they talked about Cabal and Leonie at some point when I was not around.

“Maybe this will help me understand _why_.” I pluck their cups from the table and set them onto the tray. “No use trying to change my mind.”

Finally Lockwood allowed his long limbs to relax and he fell back against his chair. He crossed his arms over his stomach and hummed in thought. “I suppose not...” he said, though his expression didn’t have me entirely convinced.


	3. Chapter 3

The boys insisted that they would come with me, even if they had not yet decided if they were to take Cabal up on his offer or not. I had decided, and therefore, I needed to go. I needed to figure out these answers.

Leonie called the house two days after I agreed to the job, telling me the address and that I could drop by whenever I pleased -- that Cabal kept no set schedule and nine-point-five times out of ten, he would likely be there and awake. He might be her business partner in creating the new branch of DEPRAC, but he certainly had his own motivations.

It was a Tuesday afternoon that I decided to go, early enough that the sun glowed bright and comforting in the sky despite the recent rain. Lockwood and George followed after me in silence, strapping on their rapiers and shoving caps onto their heads without a single word being spoken.

A part of me was convinced they were following more for my own personal safety than any interest in the case. A fear of the physical rather than the paranormal.

It was two-oh-five when I knocked on the door. Exactly fifteen thudding heartbeats passed before the door yanked open before me and the ice-cold eyes, once tempered by the blue spectacles, glared down at me in full-force.

A soft “oh” escaped me, and I took a step back -- only to collide with Lockwood. His hands closed around my shoulders to hold me steady.

The man blinked several times, and I got the impression that he was blinded by the sudden light. “Oh,” he said as well, finally spotting us below his nose. “Miss Carlyle. Miss Barrow did mention that you would be dropping by soon.” He stood back and allowed me entry.

Not for the first time, I found it odd that the two would refer to each other exclusively by their last names. Cabal and Barrow. It was no different than the way that George and I would call Lockwood as only that, the urge to call him ‘Anthony’ having long since vanished after the first few weeks there on the job.

But these two, Johannes Cabal and Leonie Barrow, maintained an outward sense of professionalism that, while they shared a flat in a decent part of London, percolated into even the smallest aspects of their lives together. They were absolutely nothing beyond business partners. It would be a wonder if either one of them considered the other a friend, and yet, Cabal had managed to confide in Leonie some of his deepest secrets. Ones that inspired her to seek out our help.

I stepped into the sparsely furnished apartment, the curtains closed despite the rare sun for this late in the year. There was a pause at the door, and I turned to find Lockwood and George frozen on the threshold, both staring questioningly at Cabal. He, in turn, stared back at them in a mild state of confusion. “Are you coming or not?”

This snapped all three of them out of their impromptu staring contest and George and Lockwood squeezed past Cabal to join me in the living room. Cabal closed the door after them and moved to stand before me.

To his left, beside the kitchen, was a door propped open and a room flooded with the late afternoon sunset. I automatically knew that this was Leonie’s room. To his right, a closed door that exuded such a sense of foreboding that I almost choked on the feeling. Lockwood and George could feel it too -- I could tell by the looks on their faces.

Cabal clapped his hands together and brought our attention to him. He was too sure of himself to look awkward, but it was clear that he did not like us nor did he trust us. “I take it Miss Barrow explained to you what your job is?”

“Vaguely,” I admitted. “You have some objects you want me to try and get a reading from?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me anything about these objects?”

Cabal’s glance flickered briefly at something over my shoulder, and I turned to find Lockwood standing there with a sour expression that could rival his own. It was as if he knew of the extent of my ability, of how my interview for Lockwood proceeded. He knew he didn’t have to tell me anything about it because he trusted the rumors of my abilities. “No. From what I understand about a Talent like yours is that going in to an initial reading with preconceived notions will only clog potential insight.”

My lips twitched in a frown. “You’re not hiring me to tell you what you already know. You already know that I can do my job or you wouldn’t have bothered -- so why won’t you tell me?”

“That’s for me to know. Now, Miss Carlyle, please have a seat.” He indicated to an uncomfortable looking chair, and took a seat in the other one across a small table.

I hated that I felt compelled to obey by the tone in his voice alone. There was nowhere else to sit, so Lockwood and George crowded in to flank my chair like a pair of rapier-wielding guards.

A small black box already sat on the table, and Cabal drew off the lid to reveal two objects: A pocket watch and a thin gold band inset with a single diamond. They were old, but well taken care of. They must have been regularly polished, and the pocket watch still ticked away. Yet another mystery to add onto the man.

“If you would indulge in me this personal request. I wish to be able to locate the remains of the owners of these two objects,” he said.

“Were these items with the owners when they died?” I reached for the box, tugging it closer to my side of the table one hesitant inch at a time.

He propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “The items were left with the rest of their belongings.” He visibly hesitated, debating if he wanted to continue. I waited, patiently. “The police conducted a rudimentary search of the area, but once their bodies weren’t found, wrote it off as simply running away to elope.”

“You suspect differently,” George mused.

Cabal’s frown deepened, and I wondered just how unwilling he was to offer me this job. Leonie must have known that Lockwood & Co. came as a set, and that if I went, the others would follow. This was all something he wanted as few people as possible to know. “You might think me a fool for trying to follow a lead like this after twelve years, Mister Cubbins, but yes. I suspect differently.”

Lockwood spoke up this time. “Did you have a Talent when you were younger?”

He hesitated again, running over a list of answers. “Of a sort, Mister Lockwood. I would have been no better suited than one of the Night Guard, I believe, but I took my talents in other directions.”

My gaze flickered to the closed door, though I couldn’t explain why. I pointed to the box, desperate to get the job under way and out of this apartment. “May I?”

Cabal nodded and waved a hand. “Please.”

I reached for the ring first, plucking it from the box and testing the weight of it in my hand. It was light, delicate -- a woman’s wedding ring. An inscription on the inside of the band had been worn away, or more like scratched into obscurity. I closed my hands around the ring and closed my eyes, blocking out all the other sounds in the flat.

I opened myself up to the sensations in the ring, and they flooded into my mind without the slightest provocation. Flashes, swimming up in my mind, washing over me and being swept back into the river of time.

A younger version of the man across from me, face unlined by turmoil and eyes bright. A smile, so comfortable and natural. His laughter and words bubbled together like a brook, jumbling around a rock before sliding on. His fingers, cold and careful, brushing over the back of my hands, pressing the ring into my palm.

A girl, who looked so strikingly like Leonie that I gasped. A rush of overwhelming love, laughter, the stomach-dropping feeling of unabashed happiness whenever she looked at him.

Doubt. Confusion. A strange tug of emotions that buffeted me first one way then the next. A dark haired young man that shared Cabal’s nose but nothing more. Feelings so different from the ones from Cabal -- who elicited a giddy and schoolgirl flutter of butterflies. A love so intense that I thought the ring would burn in my hands.

And then...

The river rose up to meet me, washing over my head, stealing the air from my lungs in a way that was so strangely unpleasant, so unlike the way my breath had been stolen in happiness before. I struggled for air, gasping and choking, tears of regret mixing with the current to drown me faster.

I dropped the ring with a strangled sob, cradling my hands against my chest. Lockwood and George each put a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

Across from me, Cabal was silent. Waiting. His face was a practiced stone wall to block out any trace of emotions. But I could see the corners of his eyes pinching in concern when he noted the traces of tears on my cheeks. He remained silent as I attempted to gather my train of thought.

“How far down the riverbank did the police search?” I finally managed to ask, my voice far weaker than I wanted it to be.

He closed his eyes, chest expanding as he inhaled. I felt the air quiver with his breath. He was fighting to maintain his forced level of calm. Just who was this girl that he would still try to find her after over a decade? I knew, without having to ask. He was the one who gave her this ring in the first place, and my heart skipped a beat just remembering the emotions that surged with the thought. “Not that far. A mile, maybe two, from where their stuff was left.”

“Lover’s suicide?”

“That’s my thoughts. They never dredged the riverbed -- it wasn’t that deep.” It took another long moment before he could open his eyes to look at me.

“Might we go to the river? It might help us answer more questions.”

Cabal shook his head, a jerky side to side motion. “See what you can find from the pocket watch, and then we will discuss further.”

I didn’t want to, not really. Not when my stomach still churned with uneasy flips from the ring. Still, I left the golden band where it landed on the table top and reached for the pocket watch. This one took longer, a steady swelling of conflicting emotions. The urge to protect and coddle, unwilling to let the obvious fact take over. That the little sibling I had fought so hard to raise was growing, becoming independent.

Guilt, stifling and heavy. Always in the back of my mind whenever I saw her face. I can’t ignore it, but I sure as hell can try to push it aside. The ring, the one that lay abandoned on the table, taunting me from its position of honor on her left hand.  The rumbling of words, feelings that I was unwilling to express out loud. The steady see-saw back and forth, up and down, of the highest elation she could bring, and the lowest pit of self-loathing.

This time, I was prepared for the tug of the river as it fought to pull me under. I fought to stay afloat, though how much was me and how much was the memory I couldn’t tell. Not until I felt the crumbling of dead grass beneath the palm of my hand and I knew. The watch I set back into the box with a much more control. I set the ring beside it, not lingering long enough to wait for more visions to return.

“And the watch?” Cabal prompted, eager despite the bitterness of his tone.

I licked my lips and ran my thumbs along the rim of the box. “I can’t be too certain...”

“I’m not paying you to be uncertain, Miss Carlyle.” His voice was cold and clinical. The emotions that had almost slipped into the visible spectrum from the ring had been successfully wrangled back into his own little black box. “Tell me the truth.”

The tension from the two boys radiated from behind me. They were eager to know what I had found out. Despite their expressed dislike for the man and disinterest for the case, they wanted to know.  

“Your brother isn’t dead, Mister Cabal. Not really, not that I can tell.” I held my breath, waiting. Every nerve in my body tensed in anticipation. _Not really_ was a terrible descriptor, but I had no better answer. There was the heavy atmosphere of death surrounding the memories of the watch, but beneath it all, I could still feel the painful struggle to keep living.  “And I think... if we find him... we’ll find your fiancee.”

There was a long pause, tense and palpable. At first, I thought that either this was something he had suspected, or it didn’t surprise him as much as it did me. But then I took another look at his eyes and I saw the cold hard fire of a man who wanted nothing more than revenge coming to life behind Cabal’s gaze. He wasn’t angry, not with me at least.

He was _furious_.

“Get out,” he said, voice low and dangerous.

I jerked to my feet on command, eager to obey. I didn’t like his expression one bit.

“Hold on now,” Lockwood said, sidestepping my desperate grab at his elbow. “You haven’t even asked her for any explanation. You can’t kick us out now.”

“Lockwood--”

“He’s right, Lucy. The job isn’t done--”

Cabal rose to his feet, towering over the three of us with pent up rage that yearned to be released -- and he wouldn’t hesitate to turn on us. “I said get out. I no longer require your services.”

I snatched again at Lockwood, this time finding purchase on his upper arm and tugging. My other hand went to his waist and hooked around his belt loop for greater leverage. “Come on, it’s fine--”

“It’s not--”

“Lockwood!”

He turned and looked at me with wide eyes. Whatever he saw in them, whatever he heard in my tight, wavering voice, made him relent. He couldn’t see the way that this man frightened me. A man who had been sleighted by the two people closest to him was the worst of all. Had he been a Visitor, he would be powerful and filled with a fury not even iron could contain.

I shoved Lockwood and George ahead of me, knowing that I would have to be the one that brought up the rear. If I left it to either of them, they would linger to give Cabal a piece of their mind. As if what I had seen was the fault of the man who tried to rebuild himself from hundreds of broken shards.

We nearly collided head first with Leonie as she pulled open the door. She smiled upon seeing us, but the expression quickly crumbled as her gaze jumped to Cabal. Her briefcase tumbled from her fingers and a rush of air escaped her lungs.

As she brushed past, I could smell summer warmth clinging to her like her own personal weather system. Despite the encroaching damp of another rainstorm, despite the lamps going on in the street, she brought sunshine wherever she went.

Lockwood and George didn’t give a second glance back, but I lingered on the threshold, reaching for the doorknob to close it behind me. I watched the two of them -- couldn’t hear the words but could feel the throb of emotions.

Her hands moved to cup his face, a gentle touch he could easily brush off if he wanted to. But he didn’t, and I wondered how hard it must be for him to see her every day, when in the back of his mind the girl he loved, who looked so much like her they could almost be sisters, was dead and gone. He didn’t even have the satisfaction of closure after twelve years.

I wished that I knew him better -- better than the fleeting glimpses I stole while holding the ring and the pocket watch (one he gave to his fiancee, one he gave to his brother, the two he lost to each other). I wished I knew him better so I could offer some sort of words of apology, but they would be too shallow to mean anything.

“Luce,” Lockwood said. His mouth was in a thin, grim line. I hated seeing that expression on him. “Let’s go.”

I closed the door behind me, and followed after my two teammates down the hall. George jabbed the button for the lift, and over its rumbling ascent to the fourth floor, I could hear Cabal’s voice rise in anger. It rose and fell, a current all its own. For a moment, I closed my eyes and thought about letting the tide carry me away.

“So, what are we going to do now?” George’s annoyed voice interrupted my thoughts.

My eyes fluttered open as the lift arrived, and Lockwood pulled aside the iron grille to let us through. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

I stepped through, silent. More than anything, I just wanted to go back to the house and curl up in the library with one of the beat up detective novels and a cup of tea. I didn’t want to think about the ring or the pocket watch. Not any more.

But Lockwood caught my eye and grinned as he jabbed the button for the lobby. “Why, we’re going to investigate!” 


	4. Chapter 4

Locating the river in question had taken little to no effort. George announced his results with the air of a boy used to bragging about even the simplest accomplishments. All that had to be done was to look at police reports from twelve years ago and line it up from what I told them of the memories.

Tadaa. Easy as that.

We took the train out to the small town, which could easily look the same as it would have twelve years ago. And when we got there, George headed straight to the police station.

Unwilling to start our investigation of the river without him, Lockwood and I waited outside. It still felt strange to be traveling with so little. All I had on me was my rapier (just as useful against the living as well as the dead) and a notepad. I wore a thick sweater against the winter chill, but otherwise had no need for gloves or a hat or a jacket. It was cold, but not freezing. We would investigate before it got too dark out.

“You know...” Lockwood started, gazing out across the street. It was early enough in the day that people didn’t have to be worried about Visitors for another few hours. “I wonder, sometimes, what it would have been like to grow up without a Talent.”

Startled, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him for a very long time. “What do you mean?”

He made a sound and a vague hand gesture, tension lining his shoulders despite his casual lean against the banister at the foot of the stairs. “More like, what my life would have been like without the Problem. What would a normal life had been like if we never saw ghosts, or could hear things _without_ having to live in fear of what that silence meant.”

“Do what they did fifty years ago, I suppose.” It was his turn to look at me, and all I could do was shrug. “Act like a kid at fifteen years old. Be more worried about what marks I had in class. What college and university I’d want to attend. Be overly concerned with what I could hear whispers about behind my back, or what _that_ silence meant.”

Lockwood’s lips curled into a tiny smile, and he chuckled in response. “That sounds so much more boring.”

“Exactly.” I returned his smile with a grin of my own. “So why wonder about it?”

His expression slipped, just a bit, but enough that I wondered what crossed his mind. But before I could ask, George trotted down the steps of the police station and held out a piece of paper in our direction.

Switching automatically back into professional mode, Lockwood stood away from the banister and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What do you have there?”

“A job.”

“We’re already here on a job. Albeit, one we were fired from.”

George rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Alright, fine, a cover-up job if that’s what you want to call it. We might as well be making some money while we’re out here.”

I eyed the paper, unable to read anything on it, but still able to identify the DEPRAC seal across the top. “We don’t have any of our equipment with us, and what is the point in making money if we’re going to have to spend it to get supplies?”

“It’s a posting about a potential vampire in the neighborhood. As it is, it doesn’t even sound like a legitimate job but if we can prove that there isn’t anything, then we’ll still get paid.” He passed the paper over to Lockwood and joined us on the sidewalk. “So, off to the river then?”

The boys looked to me for confirmation, because I was point on this mission. I was the one who knew what to look for, and more importantly, what to Listen for. Still, the ‘vampire’ job latched on to a part of my brain and wouldn’t let go. Not that I knew, off the top of my head, why it should be an important fact.

Hand on the hilt of my rapier, I led the way through the town and down to the fateful river. I had studied the maps of the town that George presented to us, but that didn’t mean that everything felt familiar because of those hours staring at green splotches and blue lines on paper.

The traces from the ring and the pocket watch remained with me, days later. This had stopped surprising my companions, especially after they saw my obsession with Annie Ward’s locket and everyone’s draw to the bone mirror. It was something that stuck with a person.

As I followed the streets, taking turns and short cuts that weren’t visible on the map, I knew I was following the route that Cabal must have trod himself numerous times, arm in arm with his fiancee or side by side with his brother. Now, I took them with Lockwood and George at my heels.

We reached the riverbank in no time, though I knew it wasn’t the spot where the two had jumped into the river. I veered right, following a familiar trail that I’ve never been down before, and finally stopped just beneath a tree. Its branches were bare, only a handful of leaves still clinging to the branches before the frost swept the countryside.

I gazed into the water, the frothy bubble that jumped and roiled around a cluster of rocks in the middle. “This is where it happened.” To this day, almost a week later, I still didn’t know if she jumped or if she fell. I didn’t know if the elder brother pushed her in, or if she was knocked over by the current tugging at her ankles. All I knew was that she didn’t even really try when her head went below the water. Why had she given up? Why did she not fight like hell to make it back to the shore, to the hands that would have undoubtedly pulled her to safety (but instead tumbled in after her, to try and stop her)?

What did she think, when she removed the wedding band from her finger? What was she keeping from me?

My feet carried me down the bank to where the water met the shore. Without even testing it, I could tell it was a strong current. If I slipped and fell, I would have to hope I remained above water long enough, or that one of the boys would come down and lend me a hand. Otherwise, I would be carried downstream for quite some time.

That is, without a doubt, what had happened to Cabal’s fiancee and brother. (Even though they had been so careful, removing the wedding band, removing the pocket watch. Removing the items that tied them to one man.)

“She didn’t drown here,” Lockwood called, standing safely by the treet. he stood right where their picnic basket had been. “No Death glow.”

I turned, shielding my eyes against the glint of the sun off the water, peering downstream as far as I could see. “Then we need to keep walking.” I moved without waiting to hear if they were going to follow. They would, of course. They stayed up on the top of the small bank, balancing against the pull of gravity that threatened to send them tumbling into the cold water.

We walked, following the water for about ten minutes. Lockwood called down to me before I could advance another step. “I’m picking up something. It’s hovering above the water.” His hand moved in a vague but violent gesture. “It looks like it could have been a glow, but it’s... I don’t know, it’s weird. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

My Sight, never as good as his even I wasn’t being blinded by the sun, gave me nothing. So instead, I lifted my hands to cup around my ears and I listened. Broken sobs, though I couldn’t tell if they belonged to a man or a woman. They were so distant, drowning beneath the water.

The siren temptation to get closer nearly overtook me. My feet inched closer and closer to the edge of the river, and I leaned over to peer into the bright blue depths.

“Miss Carlyle!”

I jerked back in surprise, tripping over my clumsy feet as my entire body jumped when I recognized who called out to me. “Mister Cabal--”

He caught onto my flailing arm before I could topple into the water and meet a familiar fate. His expression was pinched and strained. “What are you doing here?”

From over his shoulder, I caught sight of Leonie Barrow, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“We’re investigating a vampire case,” George shouted down, and I suddenly understood why he went and picked up that job. It was a cover story, in case we were going to run into Cabal and Leonie.

“Strange. I have heard no rumors as to vampire activity along the river. I always thought they did not appreciate running water.” Cabal did not release his grip from my arm, nor did he tear his gaze away from mine. Even through the protection of his smoked blue glasses, I felt like an insect beneath a microscope. Exposed, studied, catalogued.

I could hear a faint gurgle, and figured that must have been George. “We just wanted to take a quick break,” I started, but his hand tightened to a vice and I winced. Quieter, so only he would hear, I said, “I wanted to know.”

“And did you learn anything?”

I hadn’t, not really. With my free hand, I pointed out to the middle of the river. “This is where she died.” In retrospect, that probably was one of the worst things to have said to him at that point. But he didn’t like to cut corners, and neither did I."

His gaze jumped away, but a part of me was still pinned beneath his intensity. “There is a death glow?”

“Lockwood can see one. It’s too bright out for me, and you already know my Sight isn’t as strong.”

Cabal’s hand tightened to the point where I started to fear that he would cut straight through my muscle and bone and leave me with a stump. “And the running water is enough to keep any sort of spirit at bay.”

“If that is where she remained, but I don’t think it is.” I ducked my head as he turned to me, because I didn’t want to be in his thrall a moment longer. “It is simply where she died, but not where her body ended up.”

“Do you think you could pinpoint that location?”

I started to shake my head, and he released my arm. “I am not on the case anymore, Sir.”

A look that might have resembled embarrassment on a man with less pride crept into the edges of his expression. “No, you’re right.” He drew back a step and straightened his jacket with a smart tug. His eyes kept straying to the river. I wondered if his glasses were anything like those that we took from Fairfax, if they could help him see the glow.

From behind him, Leonie cleared her throat in a very pointed fashion. Cabal’s shoulders stiffened, and she said, “We talked about this.”

I marveled at her inability to fear him, to be able to treat him like he was a misbehaving child. The marvel only turned to utter shock when he turned to face me full on. His voice was still low enough that Lockwood and George, maintaining their wary distance on the top of the rise but hands on their rapier hilts, couldn’t hear. “I wanted to apologize for the other day, Miss Carlyle. Your words were invaluable in helping me take another step in my investigation.”

My head jerked from side to side. “No, it’s... I understand. I felt it all, remember?” Somehow, I managed a smile, though his own tight-lipped expression didn’t shift in the slightest. “I probably know better than most how you feel, but that doesn’t mean I completely know the reasoning behind it. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

He nodded, just once, and turned back to Leonie. “Come, Miss Barrow, we’re not done yet.”

She offered a small wave in my direction before following after the retreating form of Cabal.

With a heavy sigh, and heavier footsteps, I dragged myself back up the incline to rejoin Lockwood and George. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

They exchanged looks with one another, then back to me. “We can just come back when they are done.”

I shook my head, and the weight rose from my feet up into my shoulders. “It feels wrong. We’re invading his privacy.”

“Luce--”

“C’mon.” I lead our little trio away from the river. It was one thing to investigate every aspect of a story belonging to someone who had passed. It was another thing to investigate while someone so closely related to accident still lived. I meant what I said to Cabal: I knew exactly the pain he was feeling. The memories lingered, etched into the walls of my chest.

At first, I thought I would be able to handle it. I thought I would be more concerned with my own curiosity at leaving the story unfinished. But after running into him, I knew I couldn’t intrude further. Not just in the space that he allowed Leonie into, but even further into that space that no one was allowed into.

“Then what are we even still here for?” George grumbled, having to trot to keep up with my quick pace and Lockwood’s long-legged stride.

“We’ll investigate that vampire case, of course!” Never one to be put-off by a setback, or even a complete derailment of plans, Lockwood maintained a level of energy to keep all three of us going. “Now we can focus on spreading the name of Lockwood and Co. across the country!”

“And maybe this time we won’t mess up as badly as we did in that last vampire case...”

“Vampires! Garlic! We couldn’t have known!”

The rest of my teammates’ bickering faded into the background, allowing for one word to chase itself in the silence of my mind. _Vampires_.

I thought of the way that Cabal’s brother struggled so hard for life despite the way that the fiancee had succumbed to the current. I thought of the way that I could feel him clawing his way out of the river, out of the clutches of death, only to disappear from life.

A cold, horrifying thought settled into the pit of my stomach and I wondered if Cabal had the same thought that I did:

_What awaited his brother on the bank of the river?_


End file.
